


The Multiverse

by sammiewilson



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Avengers (Comics), Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, College AU, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Sometimes everyone is happy, Sometimes everyone is sad, Tumblr Prompt, coffee shop AU, its a toss of the dice really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammiewilson/pseuds/sammiewilson
Summary: In which super soldiers meet redheads in coffeeshops and Tony Stark lives long enough to celebrate a birthday in peace. Thanks to the multiverse, anything is possible.-or-A collection of various prompts from Tumblr.If you have any requests, head over to my Tumblr page (@blackberrywidow) and submit one!





	1. The One Where He Lives (Stony)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a dumping place for all of my prompt and blurb requests that I get on Tumblr. There is no set timeline, no continuation, just a collection of gratuitous one shots. Feel free to send requests in and please let me know what you think!

“What?” Steve asks, amusement clear in his voice even though Tony couldn’t take his eyes off of the sight before him to confirm its presence on his face. “Did you think I forgot?”

“No,” Tony says, even though he had. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I wasn’t…” 

He’s unable to finish the thought, settling for a vague gesture in the direction of the object of his fascination. 

Steve, however, has no problem following his train of thought, and his smile softens. “You weren’t expecting your family to celebrate your birthday? You’re 49 today, Tones. You really thought we’d let you get away without rubbing your own fragile mortality in your face?”

Tony can’t help but laugh, and it doesn’t come out surprised or we or anything less than amused– _it doesn’t_. He’s just… emotional. 

Because he really hadn’t expected this: all of the avengers, all of his _family,_ gathered outside of the tower, waiting to spend his birthday with him. Tony watches them through the glass doors that still separated them, and he tries to think of the last time he had had a birthday party.

One that wasn’t a booze-soaked show, one that included more than a quick breakfast with Rhodey before work got in the way, one that didn’t revolve around Happy driving him to his favorite restaurant or Pepper slipping him a surprise present on his desk. 

One that actually felt like birthdays were supposed to feel–warm and loving and happy. 

Like he _mattered_ to someone. To anyone. 

Tony had never really felt that he mattered before. Not in anyway that wasn’t hinged upon his money or his name or his suit. 

This felt… different. 

They were all clustered together, clearly waiting for him to arrive, each of them clutching some bag or package. Gifts. For _him_. 

He didn’t even realize they had known it was his birthday, let alone that they cared enough to do _this_. 

“Well, you aren’t going to make them wait all day are you?” Steve presses.

“I would have been content with breakfast in bed, you know,” Tony says instead of responding, but his feet are carrying him steadily to the door, not wasting another second. “Or a strip routine–something with glitter and tight shorts, preferably.” 

He’s only joking, but the look Steve gives him when they stop at the door is all heat. “This isn’t the only surprise you’ll get today, Sweetheart.”

And then he kisses him, sweet and slow and everything that Tony had never had before, and he knows that he would die for this man who had given him a family. 

“I love you,” he sighs once they break apart, and it almost scares him how much he means it. 

“I know.” Steve smiles at him then, and he remembers why it shouldn’t. “I love you too. Now, let’s get the big celebration started.”

Tony returns the smile, and doesn’t bother to conceal his eagerness as he opens the door. They’re his family–if there was anyone he could be himself with, it was them. 

And he loved them for it. 

 


	2. The Dance (Steggy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Peggy finally get their dance.   
> (Post Avengers 4, but written before endgame and therefore not cannon-compliant.)

“You’re late.”

Steve’s eyes flew open and his head snapped up, searching for the voice he knew all too well. This wasn’t the first time he had heard it, imagined it in the dead of night when there was no one around but him and his memories of a past long dead. She was never there, of course, but it didn’t stop him from searching.

“You’ve kept me waiting a long time, Captain. Though not long enough, I’m afraid.”

There. On his left. He could almost swear she was real this ti—

She was.

“Peggy,” Steve gasped, trying to control his racing heart and mind, both at terrible odds with each other at the moment. This couldn’t be real, _she_ couldn’t be real.

“Hello, darling,” she answered, her red lips curving up into that smile that he remembered so well.

She was dressed as she had been when he saw her at the bar all those decades ago, when there had been something more than loss and heartbreak between them. Her red dress seemed to sway in an imaginary breeze as she crouched next to where he was still lying on the ground, staring up at her with what had to be a dumb look on his face. But he couldn’t help it. This was Peggy Carter, someone he knew he shouldn’t be seeing right now, especially looking so young and happy. What was this place?

“Heaven,” she answered his unspoken question, nothing but sympathy and sadness in her chocolate eyes. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

It all came rushing back to him then—Thanos, the fight, the sacrifice. And it finally made sense.

He was dead. He had been killed defending his friends, his family, his entire universe from the Mad Titan. He had sacrificed himself in the fight, given the Avengers, given _Tony_ the chance he needed to take him down and bring everyone back.

He could only hope that it had made the difference.

“Oh, it did my darling,” Peggy said, a tear leaking out of her eye as she smiled so sadly at him. “They won. You saved everyone, just like I always knew you would.”

Steve felt relief flood through his body, and it allowed him to finally find the will to move, raising himself up on his elbow so he could catch the tear with a gentle finger. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Peggy nodded and stood, holding out a waiting hand to him. “Well then, Captain, I believe you owe me a dance.”

Steve smiled, and took her hand, rising so that he could pull her forward for a long over due kiss that seemed to take her by surprise, though he felt her lips curve into a smile against his.

“Yes,” he said once he pulled away. “I believe I do.”

Steve had dedicated his life to saving the world, and now that he had done it, he was happy that he was able to dedicate his afterlife to her.


	3. After I'm Gone (Pepperony/Iron Dad)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Tony dies to save the universe, the ones he loves continue on without him. But maybe they aren’t as alone as they thought.  
> (Written before Endgame, but could be seen as canon compliant... sorry)

Pepper stumbled into the lab, feeling lost. Achingly, terribly  _lost_.

She was always her own person, always in control of her own life. But Tony was… well, Tony was Tony. And she couldn’t help but feel like she was drowning with no idea which way to swim to reach the surface without him.

_Gone gone gone gone gone gone gone_

The thought reverberated around her mind, the soundtrack to her suffering as she stumbled around the lab in a daze. She wasn’t sure how long she drifted from table to table, from machine to machine, before she saw it.  

A package, sitting perfectly wrapped on a table in the far-right corner.

Pepper couldn’t help but chuckle, though it lacked her usual warmth and humor. _Of course Tony would still be leaving me gifts even after he’s gone_ , she thought, hand resting meaningfully on her stomach.

She opened it, of course. Inside rested a flash drive and a card.

The card contained only one word, written in Tony’s sharply-angled script: T.O.N.Y.

Pepper wasn’t sure what she was expecting to happen when she took out the cartridge labeled “F.R.I.D.A.Y” and replaced it with the new one, but she cried in both relief and heart wrenching sorrow when his voice filled the room.

“Hello, Ms. Potts. How can I help you today?”

—

Rhodey hadn’t been to Stark Tower since, well… everything. Since Thanos had destroyed half the universe, since they had fought to save them all, since they had lost Tony.

He couldn’t look at the building without thinking about his best friend dying right in front of him, so he did what he could to avoid it. But Pepper had called, and some things were more important than his mental health.

She was one of the few that he had left.

“Hey, Happy,” Rhodey said as he entered the lobby to find Stark Industries’ most dedicated employee waiting for him. “Where is she?”

Happy was always hard to read, being a naturally gruff and serious man, but Rhodey felt that he seemed a little more… emotional than usual as he said, “She’s in her office.”

He would have just chalked it up to grief—because that was plain to see in the lines of his face and the slumped set of his shoulders—but there was something that almost looked like _hope_ in his eyes as he led him to Pepper.

“Rhodey,” Pepper said, rising from her desk when she saw him in her doorway.

“Hey, Pepper,” Rhodey said, meeting her halfway to embrace her in a comforting hug. “How is everything?”

Pepper stepped back, her eyes going distant, but she nodded. “Good. Everything is… as good as can be expected right now.”

Rhodey nodded, unsure of what else to do as he released her. “That’s… good.”

“I called you here to tell you something, Rhodey,” Pepper said, the beginning of a smile tugging at her lips. It wasn’t nearly as warm or comforting as it used to be, but it was something at least. “Well, I have to tell you something, and I have to _show_ you something.”

“Okay,” Rhodey drawled, suddenly feeling skeptical. “What is it?”

“We’re pregnant.”

Rhodey froze, every muscle in his body tensing as hope and dread flooded his system. Because it wasn’t the now anxious-looking Pepper or the tense Happy who said that—a sentence that was shocking all on its own. It was the voice of his best friend, a voice that he would recognize anywhere, but one he was sure he could never hear again.

“Sorry,” the voice came again, not sounding sorry at all. “But I just couldn’t stand the anticipation anymore.”

Rhodey looked around the room desperately, not surprised when he didn’t see anything. His irritation flared. “Pep, what the hell—?”

“That’s… our new AI. Who was _supposed_ to stay quiet until I could explain everything to you.” This was said with a displeased look at the ceiling, as though it mattered where she looked. If this was an AI…

“Tony downloaded himself?” Rhodey asked, his tone taking on a more hesitant quality. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this development and wanted all of the information before he decided.

“In a way,” Pepper confirmed with a nod. “It’s an AI designed to function just like JARVIS or FRIDAY, but it just has… Tony’s personality.”

“And when he said that you were… pregnant?”

Pepper’s hand rose to rest on her stomach almost subconsciously, and she smiled once more. “He meant that _I’m_ pregnant. About three months now.”

Rhodey’s gaze drifted from Pepper’s still mostly flat stomach up to the ceiling, and he chuckled, and for once it didn’t hurt. “Well, I guess he left more behind for us than I thought.”

“I’m nothing if not generous, Rhodes,” the disembodied voice flowed through the room, washing over Rhodey like a soothing balm.

—

“It’s 1,697 watts, kid.”

“Gah!” Peter exclaimed, tossing his pencil across the table in frustration. “How?!”

“Relax, Pete. Let’s go over it together.”

Peter sighed, and agreed, standing up to grab his pencil. He was smart, he could figure it out. But it didn’t hurt to have Tony here to help.

His heart clenched painfully at the thought, as it always did when he thought of his dead mentor, but he tried to work through it.

“What’s wrong now?”

“It’s nothing Mist—uh, TONY.” Peter winced. The AI was just as perceptive as its creator, and Peter was always easy for him to read.

“Cut the bullshit, kid. You can tell me what’s going on, you know that.”

“I do,” Peter sighed, feeling resigned. It looks like he would finally be having this conversation after all. “It’s just… I miss you—him. I mean… it’s like you’re still here, and that makes it easier. But it’s not really… Mr. Stark. And that’s just hard to wrap my head around, you know? Because I’m sitting here, doing my homework, and you’re helping me like the past six months never happened. And for a second, I forget that you’re not _really_ him, and I… I just—”

“I understand, Peter,” TONY responded, his voice coming across as low and comforting. “Being like this is… strange. And I know that it’s often difficult for the ones that I loved most, but I just couldn’t think of a better way to protect you after I… well, after I wasn’t around to protect you myself anymore.”

Peter nodded, feeling the sting of tears build behind his eyes. “Do you miss it?”

A heavy pause filled the room, making Peter almost regret asking it before TONY sighed, “Of course I do, Pete. I miss everything. And I’ll miss more. But it’s worth it, I think. To still be here. Even if it’s not really me. Even if I can’t… connect with you like I used to. Can’t help you or look after you like I used to when I was… me. It’s worth it to still be a part of your life. That is… if you still want that.”

“You know,” Peter said, working to keep his voice level even as tears streamed down his face. “I don’t think you were ever so open with me when you were alive.”

“Oh, well, it’s all in the programing, I’m afraid.”

Peter laughed, the sound coming out chocked and sad, but more like it was _before_. “At least there are some improvements, I guess. But I still need help on this question.”

“You got it, Pete.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he imagined the relief in the voice of the AI, but he liked to imagine that TONY understood that he was just as relieved to still have him in his life as he was, even if it was really just code and wires.

He was still like a father to him, even like this.

—

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. You’re almost there,” he cooed to her, trying to force his synthetic voice to come across as soothing and not irritating. It was a bit of a fine line at the moment.

The woman he loved—somehow _still_ loved—screamed as she pushed, trying to bring their child into the world in this room surrounded by doctors and nurses and the voice of her dead fiancé.

At least, TONY thought that it was their child. It was certainly the child of Pepper Potts and Tony Stark, but that’s not who he was anymore. Not really, no matter how much he tried to be. He wanted to be there for the family that he had left behind, but he wasn’t sure what Pepper would want the baby to know. What role she would want him to play in the life of her child.

He hoped she would keep him around, at least. Even just so he could watch the daughter of his creator— _his daughter_ —grow. So he could continue to watch over Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and Peter and the rest of the team. So he could still _be_.

Pepper let out another shuddering scream, and then there was crying. The high-pitched wailing of a child taking its first breath. The sound of his daughter entering the world. A world where Tony Stark was dead and all that remained was… whatever he was now.

He watched silently as the doctor handed his daughter off to her mother to hold while she cut the umbilical cord. He watched as Pepper smiled at the baby in her arms, crying and cooing as she rocked her from side to side.

He wished more than anything that he could be there for her, to hold her and their child in his arms. But he wasn’t alive—truly, TONY had never been alive. But he was programed to have the same memories and personality as his creator, and that was the same thing where he was concerned.

He was about to switch off, to give Pepper and her newborn child a moment on their own without him lurking, when the voice he remembered loving so dearly called out to him. “Well, Tony? What do you think we should name her?”

He hesitated, trying to formulate the correct response to such a question. Unsure of what role he should really be playing right now. He settled on, “I still think that your uncle Morgan deserves some recognition.”

Pepper laughed, still rocking her daughter gently. “Okay. But maybe as a middle name.”

“Oh?” TONY willed his voice to sound surprised. “What did you have in mind for a first name?”

“Abigail,” Pepper said, looking up at the ceiling like she always did when she wanted to look at him. “It means—”

“Father’s joy,” TONY finished, and his voice seemed to echo breathlessly out of the walls on its own. “Yes… I think that would be perfect.”

“So,” Pepper said, running a knuckle across their daughter’s cheek with a gentle hand and an adoring smile. “Abigail Morgan Stark, welcome to the world. Your father and I love you very much, and we’ll be sure to show you that as much as possible.”

“Yes,” TONY agreed, because he knew that he should. That this was the right thing to do. “We most certainly will, Abigail.”  


	4. "You're in love with her." (Buckynat/Romangers)

The memories started out as sprinklings through his dreams: a smile here, a flash of red hair there. Sometimes she was smiling. Others she held a knife to his throat.

All of them left the same hollow feeling in his chest when he woke up gasping for air.

It’s been a year now though, and the memories crashed over him in waves. Natasha—Natalia back then—in all manner of compromising positions. Wrapped around him, in passion or in combat. Helping him find himself only for it to be ripped away again when Hydra came back.

They had spent years together like this in the Red Room. Years that he had finally remembered but she seemed content to leave in the past.

He sipped on his drink, watching them out of the corner of his eye. Trying to pretend that he wasn’t.

Trying to pretend that he didn’t remember.

But watching her with Steve… the way she smiled when his arm wrapped around her waist. The way she threw back her head and laughed—laughed in the way that only Steve could make her. The way he gently handled her as he spun her across the dance floor.

He couldn’t help but remember a time when _he_ may have done those things.

Never like them, of course. Never… _domestic_ like that. They were only soldiers when they knew each other, all those lifetimes ago. Their time together was all blood and sweat and secret smiles shared when no one was looking. Not happiness bared for all to see at one of Tony Stark’s ridiculous parties.

He threw back the rest of his drink and signaled for another.

“This is supposed to be a party, you know.”

Bucky glanced up at his best friend, not having to force the smile that tugged at his lips. It was always a relief to see him, as though he wasn’t really grounded in the present without Steve by his side. Even when he was entangled with the woman that Bucky… well, that Bucky had known when he hadn’t known anybody.

“Yeah, but it’s not like they used to be. They used to be a lot… less.”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “That’s true. But nothing’s ever stopped you from enjoying yourself before.”

Bucky shrugged and took a generous sip of his new drink. “Things change.”

Steve nodded, his eyes turning serious in the way they always did before he said something Bucky didn’t like. He tensed, preparing for the blow.

Steve didn’t disappoint.

**“You’re in love with her.”**

Bucky hesitated, glass stilling halfway to his lips as he stared straight ahead, avoiding Steve’s eyes. But it was too late to deny it. He already knew.

“I know you better than anyone, Buck,” Steve sighed, signaling for his own drink, though it did nothing to benefit either of them. “And she told me.” When Bucky’s gaze snapped to him, he elaborated. “That you knew each other. Before.”

Bucky nodded, not bothering to acknowledge the words that tore at his heart and warmed it at the same time. They didn’t need to be confirmed. “I didn’t know she remembered.”

“She does. But she doesn’t think that you do,” Steve explained, looking sad and resigned. “But I… I could tell that something was off with you. It was in your eyes whenever you looked at her. At us.”

“You always knew me better than anyone.” He said this matter-of-factly, without any bitterness or resentment. It was true. It always had been.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve finally asked after several moments of silence, quiet and hesitant. Like he didn’t want the answer but couldn’t live without asking it.

“Would it make a difference?”

He only hesitated a moment before answering. “No.”

Bucky nodded, accepting the answer that had been clear the whole time. Bucky and Natalia were a memory from a lifetime ago. They were different people now. But Steve and Natasha… they had a future.

Wordlessly, they drank to the memory of a love long lost to the bitter Russian winter that Natalia was raised in and the war that Hydra had waged inside his mind. And a toast to a future where they could overcome it all, separate but still connected by the one thing that mattered.

 


	5. "How much of that did you hear?" (Buckynat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee Shop AU

“Just ask her out, man,” Sam pressed, giving him a look that screamed _do it already_.

“Absolutely not, _man_ ,” Bucky growled between gritted teeth as Steve smothered a laugh beside him. “And keep your voice down!”

“She can’t hear us.” Sam rolled his eyes. “And it’s simple. You think she’s hot. So ask her out. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

“Sam’s right, Bucky,” Steve interjected with a small smile, shrugging when Bucky shot him a betrayed look. “You’ve been thinking about it for weeks—and don’t tell me you haven’t. We never used to come here this much.”

“I like coffee,” Bucky answered nonchalantly, moving forward with the line and praying that his idiot friends would shut up before they got any closer.

“Yeah,” Sam scoffed. “You suddenly have to have coffee every day the week this girl started working here? I call bull shit.”

“Bull shit,” Steve confirmed with a smirk.

“You guys are just assholes,” Bucky replied, waving them off.

“Assholes who care about you.”

Bucky ignored his best friend, eyes trained ahead of him and the slowly shrinking line, though he was careful not to glance too far to the right. He could see flashes of red every now and then as she danced across the café, taking orders and making drinks, but he never looked at her. The last thing he needed were the guys adding him staring at the poor girl to their list.

“Seriously, Bucky,” Steve said, voice quitter than before as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “The war was years ago. You’ve been home for so long and made so much progress—don’t you think it’s time to let yourself be _happy_?”

Bucky didn’t answer, though the supportive and borderline hopeful looks on his friends’ faces made his heart warm just slightly. He knew they cared about him. He just wasn’t sure they knew what was best for him—or rather, what was best for those around him.

“Next,” a voice called out, drawing his attention back up to the register where a barista was staring at him expectantly.

It wasn’t her. He tried not to be too disappointed, but he had a feeling it still showed.

“Hi,” Bucky greeted. “Can I get—”

“I’ll take this one, Mary,” a smooth voice cut in. And there she was, all fiery red hair and lethal smile. “He’s a special customer.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow as the other barista shrugged and moved on without a word. _What the hell was that supposed to mean?_

“So,” she said, her practiced smile turning into a knowing smirk. “The usual?”

Bucky hesitated as he took in the teasing twist of her lips and the gleam in her eyes. It only took him a second longer to put two and two together.

**“How much of that did you hear?”**

The smirk widened. “Enough.”

Bucky sighed, torn between bashing his friends’ heads into the counter or his own. “Look, I’m really sorry—”

“I’m not,” she cut him off smoothly, eyes trained on the computer screen as she entered in his order. “But I do get off in an hour.”

Bucky blinked at her, trying to formulate a response that wasn’t too pathetic. “Okay… And would you like for me to be here when you do?”

“That depends,” she answered, leaning over the counter a bit. “Are your friends going to chaperone?”

“God, no,” he answered, almost gagging at the thought.

“Then I’ll see you here at 7,” she answered, red lips still twisted into a smirk. “I like sushi.”

“I’ll keep that in mind…”

“Natasha,” she supplied, winking at him before she turned and moved further down the counter to work on an order.

Bucky’s smile was permanently etched on his face as he waited for his order, his eyes following Natasha the whole time.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Sam muttered to Steve, which Bucky dutifully ignored. “Dude has _no_ game anymore.”  

Steve shrugged, ever the faithful best friend. “She seemed into it.”

 _Thank God she was_ , Bucky thought, but didn’t dare say.


	6. “What God-awful demon possessed you to wear that?” (Romangers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Prompt

“Rogers!” Tony called, pounding on his door for the third time. “The party is starting now, and the light of your life has sent me down to drag your ass over there. To _my_ party. So let’s get a move on, alright Capsicle?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Steve grumbled, accepting his fate. There was no sense in stalling any further. He would have to face it eventually.

“Finally,” Tony sighed, looking as put-together as always, even in the spider-man suit that he was currently wearing, sans-mask—because it would be a sin to cover his face, he said. Never mind that the Iron Man suit covered his face entirely as well. But Steve knew that Peter would be thrilled regardless, which was why Tony had chosen that costume in the first place. He tried to hold onto that thought as he opened the door further, giving him enough space to step out.

At least, he did until Tony sucked in a breath and said, **“What God-awful demon possessed you to wear that?”**

“Natasha,” Steve sighed, hanging his head as he shuffled from foot to foot, feeling naked. “Lost a bet.”

“You should have known better than to make a deal with the devil, Steve,” Tony chided in sympathy, throwing an arm around his shoulders to guide him to the party that was taking place in the common room just a few doors down. “But it’s really not _that_ bad.”

“Really?” Steve asked sardonically, looking down at his friend skeptically.

“No,” Tony replied, after only a moment’s hesitation. “It _is_ that bad. But look on the bright side.  You’ll probably get laid at least.”

Steve laughed harshly, shaking his head as they walked into the party. “There’s always that I guess.”

“Steve,” Bucky called, walking over to join him with Sam at his side once they saw Tony come back with the man he was ordered to track down. “There… you…are…”

His best friend trailed off, eyes wide as he tilted his head to the side and took him in: the brown fur boots and the loincloth with nothing but thick leather straps covering his chest.. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Sam recovered from his shock quickly, bursting out in laughter that caused him to double over and clutch his waist. “He—He’s _He-Man_. Oh my god this is perfect. Who do I have to thank for this?”

“Me,” Natasha said, coming up behind his friends with a wicked smile and a camera. “Say cheese, loser.”

Steve rolled his eyes while Tony posed next to him, holding his hands out as though he were about to web him up. After the camera flashed though, he was quick to excuse himself, saying, “I’ll leave the happy couple to it then. Enjoy the party, Captain He-Man!”

Bucky and Sam also made a hasty getaway, both of them looking at him with pity even though they couldn’t tamper down their amusement at his situation.

“I think it looks really good on you actually,” Natasha said, running a perfectly manicured hand down his bare chest. “Nudity suits you.”

“You’re hilarious,” Steve said, unable to hide his blush or the annoyance from his tone. “What are you, anyway?”

Natasha glanced down at her own outfit, a white form-fitting jumpsuit that was embellished with a gold collar. She was also wearing faux-fur lined boots and carrying a sword. All-in-all, she looked ridiculous—still stunning, of course, but ridiculous.

“I’m Teela,” she answered, as though it should be obvious. “He-Man’s wife.”

Steve softened immediately. “I thought this was supposed to be _my_ punishment?”

“Well, yeah,” Natasha answered, grinning at him as she took his arm and lead him further into the party. “But I wasn’t going to make you look ridiculous alone. We’re in this together.”

“I love you,” Steve chuckled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. 

“I know,” Natasha replied easily, grinning up at him wickedly. “But Tony was right. You _are_ getting laid tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know literally nothing about He-Man, so don’t @ me if I messed something up. Enjoy the image of a half-naked Steve and be fulfilled.


	7. "I am centuries old. You need to do more than that to get rid of me.” (Romangers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Prompt/College AU

“This is… a bad idea,” Steve said, glancing around the long-deserted house with rising trepidation. “We should just go home.”

“Oh come _on_ Steve.” Nat looked back at him, grinning as she led him up the creaking stairs. “You’re not afraid of some dust, are you?”

“Dust? No,” Steve sighed, though not too deeply because he actually _wasn’t_ that fond of dust. “The ire of the ancient beings that may reside in this house? Yeah, probably.”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Natasha chided, and though he couldn’t see her, he knew she was rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t say ghosts. There could be vampires, demons, witches…” he trailed off as Natasha came to an abrupt stop in front of a door, arms crossed and perfectly manicured eyebrows raised.

“I can’t believe you’re that superstitious. My cute little art major—scared of old wives’ tales. Well… maybe it does make sense.”

“Ha ha,” Steve mocked as Nat’s smirk only widened. “Are you going to tell me why you dragged me all the way out here or not?”

“It’s Halloween. When I heard about this creepy old house from Sharon, I thought it sounded like the perfect place for us to get away for the night. You know—be _alone_ for once.”

“You are, without question, the strangest person I know.” Steve chuckled as Nat playfully pouted.

“That’s why you love me though, right?”

“Right,” Steve agreed, smiling softly at her before bringing a raising a hand to tilt her chin up. “That, and the discount you give me whenever I go to the coffee shop.”

Nat rolled her eyes but pushed up on her toes to close the last few inches between their lips. She had meant it when she said she wanted to get away for some _alone time_. She loved Steve, and she loved his friends too, but sometimes they were just too much. It was hard to get some time together without either Sam or Bucky breathing down their necks considering they were all roommates. But tonight would be different—she had made sure of that.

“Come on,” she broke away with a sultry smile, opening the door behind her and backing in, Steve’s hands held firmly in hers. “We have plenty of places left for us to hunt for ghosts. Or is it dust bunnies you’re afraid of? Because I’m pretty sure you’re more likely to find those.”

“Hilarious,” Steve sighed, smile tugging at his lips as he watched his girlfriend saunter into the room like she owned the place. It was how she walked anywhere, really—just another example of the many things he loved about her.

“Nothing too scary in here,” Nat observed with a mocking smile. “Do you think it’s safe to pick up where we left off?”

“Honestly? I don’t even care right now.” He strode the few feet to where she stood waiting for him, planting his hands on her hips and tugging her forward. Which is exactly when the power went out.

Steve was comfortable enough with his masculinity to admit that he yelped, though Nat’s lack of reaction didn’t exactly help his ego. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answered, clearing his throat and moving to stand in front of Nat. “Do you know where the breaker is? We should go check it.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” a voice croaked from the darkness. “Who dares disturb my rest?”

“Uh…” Steve whispered, eyes darting across the room, trying to locate the voice. “Who the hell are you, exactly?”

A light flickered to life in the corner, illuminating a ghostly shape that swirled and writhed in the darkness of the room. “The spirit of Abraham Meyer, the original owner of the home in which you are trespassing. I’ve resided comfortably here for years, and now you’ve come to desecrate my eternal resting place. Prepare to die for you sins, boy.”

Steve was usually pretty good with stressful situations—those stressful situations being writing a paper thirty minutes before its due or helping someone after they were in a car accident. He had never been in a ghost situation before though, so his instincts weren’t exactly prepared for this kind of scenario. Or at least, that’s what he would later tell himself when trying to justify why he chose to take off his left shoe and hurl it at the incorporeal figure as his primary form of defense.

“Ha! **I am centuries old. You need to do more than that to get rid of me** ,” the ghost jeered as Steve backed away, reaching out to grab Nat and run only to find that she was no longer next to him.

“Nat,” Steve hissed, whirling around to find her standing in the opposite corner, lifting what looked like a rather large stick above her head. “What are you—”

She brought her make-shift weapon down with a loud _crack_ , causing the light to flicker and die and someone across the room to whisper, “ _Oh shit._ ”

Nat turned to face him, her eyes glinting dangerously in the moonlight. “Steve,” she growled through clenched teeth. “Take care of your friends before I do. _Now_.”

She stomped out of the room and out of the house before Steve could even figure out how to response.

“What the…”

“I _told_ you this was a bad idea.”

“Man, _shut up_. You thought it was a great idea thirty minutes ago!”

“Yeah, that was _before_ Natasha was determined to kill us!”

Steve sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, finally putting two and two together. “You two can come out now.”

The door to the closet creaked open, and Bucky and Sam shuffled out, looking properly ashamed. And more than a little terrified of the angry redhead waiting for them outside.

“What the hell guys?” Steve asked, throwing out his arms in exasperation.

“Well… Sharon told us that you guys would be coming here…” Bucky started, eyes darting to the side nervously.

“And we thought it would be funny to scare you,” Sam finished lamely. “You know, like a Halloween Prank.”

Steve just shook his head. “I can’t believe you guys did this.  _Again_.”

“I can’t believe you threw your shoe at a ghost,” Bucky muttered under his breath, prompting Sam to chuckle and fist bump him in response.

“I’d shut up if I were you,” Steve warned, walking over to gather his shoe with what dignity he had left. “You still have Nat to answer to.”

His best friends paled and remained silent as they walked out to face certain death in the form of the angry Russian women they had just cock-blocked.


	8. “That costume really is convincing. You might terrify a few too many children.” (Buckynat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Prompt

**“That costume really is convincing. You might terrify a few too many children.”**

Bucky whipped around, already knowing who had broken into his room. “Ha ha. Hilarious. You’re one to talk.”

Natasha was reclined against his bed, looking like she owned the place in her skin-tight red dress and come-hither smile.

“Jessica Rabbit isn’t scary,” Natasha corrected, standing up and crossing the room to where Bucky still stood halfway outside the door. “Now, the Winter Soldier? An original idea, I’ll give you that, but combined with the blood I think it may be a bit much. You’ll scare Peter.”

Bucky scoffed, but allowed her to lick her thumb and scrub pointedly at the blood he knew was still splattered on his cheek. “I just came back from a mission, Doll. Give me some time to breath. And besides, that kid isn’t afraid of anything. I could show up half-dead and he’d just ask me how the new upgrades on my arm are working.”

Natasha smirked, unbuckling the straps that ran across his chest before throwing weapons holster onto his bed. “He’s a good kid, but kind of an oddball. So I think it’s still a better idea for you to change into your costume before we head up. And make it fast—the party started a half an hour ago. People have been asking where you are.”

Bucky shook his head, stepping forward and closing the door as he took over for Natasha. “I’m not going, Nat. I already told you that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Natasha protested, leaning against the door and watching him take off his clothes with hungry eyes. “You took a last-minute mission on your own, hoping that it would keep you away long enough to miss the party. But it didn’t, so move your ass and get in that costume.”

Bucky shrugged. “Same thing. Still not going.”

Natasha sighed heavily, coming around to face him with a firm hand on his chest and a stern look. The one that always meant she was about to get what she wanted and that resistance was futile. Bucky gulped.

“You have to show your face eventually, Barnes. You may not think it, but those people up there are your friends. Hiding behind the Winter Soldier isn’t going to help you. That’s not who you are anymore—everyone else knows that. Why don’t you?”

“I… I don’t deserve it, Nat. Steve’s happiness, Peter’s weird questions, Tony’s forgiveness, your… you. I don’t deserve any of it.” He let his head fall, resting his forehead against hers as he gripped her hand tightly. He didn’t deserve any of it but he deserved Natasha’s love least of all. It was a hard truth, but it was one he had come to accept.

“Maybe not,” Natasha allowed, placing a hand on his cheek. “But they think you do. And isn’t that enough for now?”

Bucky hesitated, thinking that maybe she was right. Maybe it was time that he let the Winter Soldier go and focus on healing with the family that he didn’t deserve. Natasha had a tendency to be right, after all.

“That depends,” he finally said, leaning his head back and giving her a small smile that made her red lips quirk up into a smirk. “What costume did you pick out for me?”

“Oh, you’ll love it,” she purred, heading into his closet. “It’s a couple’s costume!”

“No,” Bucky immediately protested, backing away. “No way. I am _not_ going as a giant rabbit. Find something else.”

“It’s too late,” Natasha sang, coming towards him with the gaudiest rabbit suit he’d ever seen. He backed away, hands raised. “You should have listened to me when I was trying to plan our costumes. Consider this your punishment.”

She had him backed against the door now, with nowhere to go considering he was mostly naked and there was a party going on only a few doors down. He dropped his head back and sighed in defeat, holding his hand out for the costume.

“You hate me,” he grumbled, taking the suit from her hands and shuffling off to the bathroom to put it on.

“No,” she called after him as he shut the door. “I love you, Bucky, but sometimes you just need to lighten the fuck up, you know?”

Bucky laughed, trying to hold onto that thought as he pulled on the monstrosity. Natasha was probably right, he did need to lighten up a little.

At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself when they entered the party to Sam’s hysterical laughter and the spider-kid asking him when he became a furry. Natasha’s bright smile and delighted laugh made it all worth it if nothing else. And the promise of kicking Sam’s ass in training the next day, of course.


	9. "We should do a couples costume" (Wandava)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Prompt

“Wanda!”

Wanda’s head snapped up from the book she had floating in front of her, eyes landing on a wide smile and soft gray eyes. “Ava. What are you doing here?”

“Bill and I were invited to Stark’s big Halloween party, so I thought it was a good time to visit everyone again,” Ava explained, nervously tugging on the sleeves of her shirt. “I’ve missed you.”

Wanda smiled, quirking her head to the side as she took her friend in. They had really hit it off the last time Ava had visited, bonding over their strange powers and love of chocolate and 80s’ movies. She had hoped she would stay, explore their relationship and the possibility of more, but Ava was restless and always looking for the next adventure now that she was free to live life to the fullest.

Wanda envied her almost as much as she missed her.

“We’ve all missed you too,” she finally said, stepping forward to envelope Ava in a warm hug. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

“Thank you.” Ava beamed at her, pulling back but keeping her hands on Wanda’s shoulders. “Halloween was always my favorite holiday as a child, so I’m happy that I can celebrate it with family again.”

“Of course,” Wanda agreed, taking Ava by the arm and pulling her around to sit on the couch with her. “The party is tomorrow night though. Do you already have your costume planned?”

“Oh, I was waiting to talk to you about that actually. **We should do a couples costume** , don’t you think?”

Wanda was in the middle of moving her cup of tea off of the table and to her hand and nearly dropped it on the pristine white carpet, only barely managing to right the cup at the last second. “Oh, ah—you mean like matching costumes?”

“Well,” Ava replied, looking at Wanda strangely with furrowed brows. “I suppose most couples costumes match, don’t they? That’s kind of the point.”

“Right,” Wanda said, clearing her throat and snatching her tea cup out of the air and taking a deep drink to wet her suddenly dry throat. “But usually only… well, only _couples_ wear couples costumes like that, Ava. You know, like people who are in relationships together.”

“Yes, I know,” Ava agreed slowly, sparkling gray eyes clouded with confusion at Wanda’s protests. “That’s why I thought—oh. Oh, I see. I’m so sorry.” Ava suddenly stood, her face growing redder by the second as she avoided Wanda’s gaze. “Yes, I believe you’re right. Never mind then.”

“Ava, wait,” Wanda called out, snatching at Ava’s wrist to stop her. “I—did you… _are_ we a couple Ava?”

It was Ava’s turn to awkwardly clear her throat, glancing at Wanda out of the corner of her eye and working hard not to phase out of her grasp as she answered. “Well… after all the time we spent together the last time I was here, I thought… I thought that maybe we were. But I can see now that I assumed too much. I’m very sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, Wanda.”

“No,” Wanda protested quickly, smile suddenly present and bright on her face. “No, you haven’t made me uncomfortable Ava. I just… I didn’t realize you felt the same way. If anything, I’m relieved.”

“Really?” Ava sounded hopeful but hesitant as she turned around to face her fully, Wanda’s grip tightening on her arm.

“Really,” Wanda repeated, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, green eyes tender as she smiled at her girlfriend. “What ideas did you have for our costumes, darling?”

Ava smiled brightly, leaning into Wanda’s touch as she said, “I was thinking Princess Leia and Han Solo. You like Star Wars, right?”

Wanda laughed and pulled Ava in for a quick peck on the lips, smirking when she phased out of reach for just a moment in shock. “I love it. Let’s get started.”


	10. “I can’t remember the last time I did this with someone.” (Buckynat)

“I can’t remember the last time I did this with someone.” 

The thought comes unbidden at an inopportune time, and he doesn’t even realize that he’s said it aloud until Natasha is pulling back, looking down at him with sad green eyes. 

His neck feels cold where she had been nipping at it only seconds ago, and he’s afraid that maybe he’s ruined it. That all it will take is another word and she’ll be climbing out of his bed, putting her clothes back on, deciding that she wasn’t interested in damaged goods after all. 

But he’s misread the situation (as he tends to do): she does not pity him. She doesn’t regret kissing him at that party, doesn’t regret giving him a coy smile before leading him back to his room, doesn’t regret slamming him against the wall and tracing words of love on his skin with her lips and her tongue and her hands. She doesn’t regret this. 

But she does understand what he means when he says he can’t remember. 

She knows that he isn’t indicating that it’s been along time since he’s been with someone, knows he’s not trying to tell her that he’s a bit out of practice. 

She knows that he genuinely, truly, isn’t aware of the last time he had felt intimacy like this. Knows that he can’t remember if the last time he felt a woman’s touch was ten years ago or seventy. That he couldn’t recall any of their faces, or their names, or what their hair smelled like if he were asked.

Natasha understands, perhaps better than anyone else in the world. She also understands that that only makes this–whatever it is that they have between them–all the more important.

So she leans in, lips grazing his softly, tenderly, and it is the gentlest thing he has felt in 75 years. 

“Then I guess we’ll just have to make sure you remember this time,” she whispers, the words a soft caress against his lips. 

And then her lips are flush against his own again, her tongue slipping deftly into his mouth, and Bucky no longer has the presence of mind to worry about his shortcomings.

( _later that night, once Natasha is curled against his side, sleeping peacefully, he thinks that if he could remember only one woman, he’s glad that it is this one.)_

 


	11. "Please. You can't die now."

“Please,” she whispers when they come to her door with pity in their eyes and a condolence letter in their hands. 

“Please, please, please,” she chants as she rushes inside her home– _their_ home–and snatches a half-finished letter off of her writing desk. 

“ _Please_ ,” she sobs desperately, _angrily_ as tears blur her vision and tremors wrack her hands so badly she can no longer read the words. 

It didn’t matter; she knew very well what this letter, written in her own sloping script said.

_Dearest Bucky,_

_I know that good news can be fairly hard to come by these days, but it seems that we may have reason celebrate yet._

_The doctor has informed me that I am with child, and that we should expect our own little bundle of joy early this summer._

_I know that this is not an ideal time, but I_

But the letter cuts off abruptly, never to be finished, just as Bucky Barnes’s life was cut so terribly short.

“Please” she rasps–helplessly, hopelessly–falling to her knees, the letter fluttering to the ground, tear-stained and useless now that its intended recipient was dead.

“Please,” she prays, though she doesn’t know to whom. Knows it wouldn’t matter anyway. “Please, you can’t die now.”

But it was too late. Too late to save him. Too late to spare their child a life lived without the love of a father. Too late to stop herself from loving him. Too late to save herself the pain that comes with loving so passionately and losing it so early, so young, so tragically. 

It seemed that with every blessing Natasha Romanoff was afforded, she would be cursed to bear a tragedy strong enough to steal any semblance of happiness she may have found in this life. 


	12. “You wanna come to a super soft birthday party?” (Bucky + Team Bonding)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just love Letterkenny okay.

Bucky had always been a light sleeper–he had to be, to survive. First as a soldier, then as a brainwashed assassin, and now as an avenger. 

So when he heard the creak of his window opening, he was instantly alert, though his lack of movement indicated otherwise. He waited with baited breath, his hand shifting slowly under his pillow to grip the knife he kept there, and the moment the shadow shifted just above him, he struck.

The knife froze just a mere inch away from the kid’s throat, and though Bucky’s eyes widened in horror at what he had almost done, Peter displayed no reaction from his position directly above Bucky’s bed. 

Neither of them moved for several long seconds–Peter, wearing his suit and suspended from the ceiling by a single strand of webbing, and Bucky, muscles tense and hand clutching the knife still held near the kid’s neck tightly, as though he were unsure if he should kill him for waking him up or not.

But then the silence was broken by a gentle whisper: “You wanna come to a super soft birthday party?”

Bucky blinked, slowly lowering the knife back down to his side, and considered his options.

The clock said it was 3 a.m., and the rational voice in his head told him that he didn’t know what a “super soft birthday party was” and that he most certainly did not want to find out.

But the other voice, the one that sounded suspiciously like Steve Rogers, said that if the kid had snuck into his room just to invite him to a party–super soft or no– that he better get off his ass and _go_.

So he rasped out a quiet, “Yeah,” and ignored Peter’s quiet _whoop_ of excitement as he stood up to get dressed.

He also ignored the sudden tightness of his throat and the sting of suppressed tears when he realized that the birthday party he was being led to was for _him_.

It had been so long since Bucky had experienced the love of a family, and he had never expected to again. Let alone in the form of a kid in a spider costume, a pain in the ass that wore metal wings for a living, and a girl that had glowing red eyes and the ability to move things with her mind. But who was he to complain? 

(as it would turn out, super soft birthday parties quickly become of a tradition for bucky; and if anyone saw the irony in the man with the metal arm and steely personality being the recipient of said super soft birthday parties, they kept it to themselves)


	13. Rhodey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey’s best friend dies, and all he can do is watch.  
> (aka the Endgame compliant blurb no one asked for.)

rhodey didn’t say anything when he saw him. couldn’t force himself to speak the words that would make it real. couldn’t fathom how words could be strung together to form some semblance of a proper response.

so he watched him, as he often did. he watched him try to comfort his wife the way he had watched him struggle with the weight of his father’s legacy despite his ability to breeze through his mit classes at 16.

he watched his best friend stare at the crying kid who had become a son to him the way he had watched him try to destroy his life. try to drown all the good parts of himself with alcohol and meaningless sex and anything to numb the pain that came with being tony stark. try and fail to be something less than he was.

he watched him die the way he had watched him live through his capture and torture. he supposed most would say his journey to becoming this—a hero who would sacrifice his own life to save the universe— started then. but rhodey has been watching tony for a long time, and he knew better.

rhodey had watched over tony for most of their lives, and he watched over him now _(for the last time,_ a voice in the back of his head whispered even as his heart fought to deny it). the only difference is that this time, he didn’t know what to say.

but then tony looked up at him, and the pain and anguish in his eyes broke his heart, but tony had always been a complicated person and rhodey knew he saw relief there too. relief that they had won, that he had saved them, that it was over.

and there was love there too, and acceptance. and rhodey cried, but he understood. he didn’t need to say anything—he would just watch over his brother through his final moments, just as he through all the others, and it would have to be enough.

even if it killed him to do it. he would bare the pain gladly for this man that meant the world to him.

and if he was just the slightest bit happy that at least the world would finally see tony for the hero rhodey had always known he was, he would never say it. it was a small consolation, one that wasn’t nearly enough to ease the pain that tore at his heart.

he thought maybe nothing would, but he was never one to wallow in self pity. so he would keep living and keep fighting and keep watching over the rest of tony’s family the way he watched over him.

he could only hope that it would be enough.


	14. The Date (Romangers, Danbeau, & Winterfalcon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group date gone wrong

“What do you _mean_ there aren’t any more Blockbusters? What happened to them?”

Natasha and Maria share an exasperated look across the table as Steve asks “Wait, what’s a Blockbuster?”

They both sigh, and Natasha, knowing it’s her turn, answers. “Blockbuster was a store chain that rented DVDs. It went bankrupt in 2010.”

“So they’re gone?” Carol clarifies, looking oddly put out by this. “All of them?”  
  
“Yes baby, all of them,” Maria answers, resting her head in her hands, burger long forgotten. Natasha knows how she feels--maybe a double date with two people who missed out on the last couple decades was a bad idea after all. Bonding had been the intention, but they had spent the last two hours in a dinner “catching up.” 

It was a bit of a nightmare, if Nat were being honest. She loved Steve, and she respected Carol a great deal, but dear _god_ could they just accept that they would never be able to understand every single event that had happened while they were indisposed/off planet. 

The answer, apparently, was no. 

“And they’re remaking _Star Wars_?” Carol asks, seemingly coming to terms with Blockbuster’s demise. She continues shoving fries into her mouth, pulling them from her wife’s plate now that her own was empty. Maria didn’t comment.

“No!” Steve pipes up excitedly, despite the burger that was still in his mouth. “They’re _continuing_ them. They did episodes seven and eight, and nine comes out this winter.” He turns to look at Nat with pride shining in his eyes, happy that he finally knew something the other Captain (the only _real_ Captain, as Carol would argue) did not.

Natasha returned the smile with less enthusiasm, eyes catching on the ketchup on the corner of his mouth. After this mind-numbing disaster of a meal, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to lick it clean or smack it off of his face. She loved Steve, she did but… this was a form kind of torture even she had never had to endure before.

Carol opens her mouth, eyes bright and inquisitive once again, when salvation arrives in the form of Sam and Bucky storming through the diner door. They stride across the diner to their table, ignoring the bewildered looks the other patrons were throwing their way, and Natasha had a feeling this may just be her saving grace.

“Oh, so this is how it is then?” Sam asks, arms crossed as he glared at them from the end of the table. Bucky mirrored his stance, but it was more out of solidarity than any real annoyance.

“…What?” Steve asks, fry hovering halfway to his mouth and Natasha again has the urge to knock some sense into him.

“We weren’t invited to this little group date of yours, and I’d be offended, if I didn’t have a feeling that   _maybe_ that’s because you know we’re the better couple,” Sam accuses, and Natasha knows him well enough by now to know what he’s doing. Teasing Steve was something he exceled at, after all.

But what Sam _hadn’t_ accounted for was her willingness to take advantage of that fact.

So she cut off Steve’s vehement protests that this _was not an attempted declaration of couple superiority_ to say “You know what Sam? You’re right. It was wrong of us to not include you. Here, take my seat." 

She stood up abruptly, making eye contact with Maria who quickly put two and two together and followed suit. “Here Bucky,” she offered, giving him a kind smile that bordered on patronizing. “It’s impolite to make the elderly stand.” 

Natasha only smirked before linking arms with Maria and striding out of the diner, purposefully ignoring the two sets of confused eyes and the betrayal written across Sam and Bucky’s faces. 

“You know we’ll never hear the end of this, right?” Maria asks as they stroll down the street, now nearly half a mile away from any mundane questions that could easily be answered by google.

“Yes,” Natasha answers, smile still firmly in place. “But I think it’s worth it for some peace and quiet, don’t you?”

Maria’s scoff was answer enough.

 


End file.
